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My Profile
Retro-retrospection - 2008-10-06
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12:06 p.m. - 2003-05-11
So yeah, it's Mother's Day. Back in my archive somewhere is a profane rant about why I loathe those women who profess to hate Mother's Day. Pretty much summed it up then, no need to do it again. What to talk about then? It seems kind of dumb to make a point of talking about my kids and my relationship with them today. That's all I do on regular days. My house, my husband, my despair over and hatred for the Bush Administration, my illness, and my kids. It always comes back to the kids. I read some diarists and you'd never even know they HAD kids, their diaries are testimonials to the concept that mothers can have lives beyond their kids. In theory I admire this. In practice it’s impossible for me. I AM a mother. I cannot stand apart from my mothering as if it’s some kind of garment I put on only when it suits me. The kids. The kids. The kids. Everything in my life is about the kids. I was for environmental causes before I had kids, but my dedication and fervor has increased a thousand fold since their births. Gotta have clean water for my kids. Gotta have clean air for my kids. Gotta conserve resources so my kids have some when they are my age. Same deal on the political front. Always politically aware, but never more so than when I became a mother. VERY pregnant on Election Day 1984, I remember the fierce burst of pride and happiness that my baby was coming into a world where a woman was a major party’s Vice-Presidential nominee. It’s a given I would have voted for the Mondale/Ferraro ticket anyway, but the baby in my belly made that historic vote sweeter. My child, boy OR girl, would have opportunities unheard of when I was born. I’m a junk food junkie, yet my fridge is loaded with fresh veggies, fruits, milk, and yogurts. The pantry is stocked with nutrition bars and no added sugar cereal. There’s cookies, but vanilla wafers and animal crackers seem pretty tame compared to the M&M studded, chocolate dipped Oreos I yearn for. Why? Why all the “good” food when I could happily live on Cheetos and Cap’n Crunch? The kids, of course. Not only do I buy them good nutritious food, I cook it, serve it, and eat it. With them. At the table. In the kitchen. Where there is no TV. Dinner together at least 6 nights out of 7. In nearby Rivertown there is an urban homesteading project going on that is most exciting. Old, neglected, but so worth the effort homes and commercial buildings are being offered for a dollar and a commitment that the place be refurbished and up to building code within 5 years. Mike and I were drooling over an old shoe factory. A lovely brick thing with hand powered elevators, a ground floor loading dock/warehouse space which would hold our stable of cars and two floors above to make over into one heck of a dramatic home. The place even had river views and a parapet style roof perfect for a roof garden. Why didn’t we jump on it? The kids. The factory is in a war zone. A violent slum full of crack dealers, prostitutes, and gangs. Drive-by shootings are so common they barely get mentioned in the paper. The local elementary school had failed the school standards tests so miserably for so long that the principal was actually indicted on child abuse charges. Mike and I might be willing to make a fortress of the place and live with locks and bars and alarms and never going outside unless we were armed, but how could we do that to our kids? No river view is worth my children’s safety and freedom. Lorster, Nightdragon, and Rumblelizard have all made cases for their voluntary childlessness. Good for them. More power to you. I’m delighted that you know yourselves well enough to say no to children, whatever your particular reasons are, and understand the awesome commitment and lifestyle changes involved in rearing kids. Am I resentful sometimes over the all pervasive child orientation of my life? Sure. That factory would have been too cool. I’d love to sit in front of the TV with a huge bowl of ice cream and call it dinner. It would be pretty restful to not have to be battling the school prayer/ book banning/ no sex ed/ science rejecting schlemiels all the time and not give a rat’s butt about school curriculum. How easy it would be to let the Rainbow Warrior set to sea without my money. To chuck the flyer from the Sierra Club. To sit in my comfy chair at home instead of having my ass go numb on a folding chair while the grievance committee for the Hudson River PCB Clean-up argues about the wording of its latest letter to GE. And oh, to be able to sleep in! God, wouldn’t that be great? But I’m a mother. It’s what I do. There is no shedding my motherhood. It’s woven into the fabric of my being. It’s what I’m all about. Forever and anon... I am a mother. Happy Mother’s Day. ~LA Today’s Pick: “Mama” by Heintje
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